


Aw title no

by AshenCrystal



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: M/M, idk how to tag but whatever, random writing, writing dump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenCrystal/pseuds/AshenCrystal
Summary: This is where I post all of my unfinished works. A lot of these are probably terrible and will most likely never end up in an official story, but if they do, they hey, awesome! Anyway, enjoy!





	1. Dumpster Diving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Matt's first meeting. Matt basically slam dunks Clint into a dumpster.

Not many can say they met one of their friends in a dumpster, but Clint Barton was definitely one of those rare few. Well... maybe _friend_ wasn't _entirely_ accurate. His relationship with Daredevil was built purely on coincidental meetings and occasional ass saving. That didn't really mean they were going to go out for burgers and milkshakes anytime soon. Still, there was something that intrigued him about the masked man.

It had all started when Clint had been tracking one of the many gangs in Hell's Kitchen, a mission assigned to him from Tony Stark, no doubt to keep him out of his hair, and, as his typical luck would have it, he ended up being found out. One thing lead to another, and before he knew it, he had been shoved off a rooftop as if they were pirates making him walk the plank. However, Clint always had a knack for balancing out his bad luck with good luck and managed to pull an arrow from his quiver just in time, stabbing it into the brick wall. The arrow made a horrid scratching sound as it attempted to halt his fall, but then Clint's horrid luck kicked up again and he felt his grip slide from the arrow.

"Shit, shit, shit-!"

He desperately clawed at the air as he began to plummet to the ground, and that's when it happened. Just as he was sure he was going to become a Clint Barton pancake, he felt arms around him, shoving him to the side and instead of hitting the hard pavement, he hit a pile of garbage. It took him several moments of silence and a long stare at the man clad entirely in black for him to finally put together what happened.

This guy just caught him in midair and shoved him into a dumpster. Either he was amazingly talented, or a straight up lunatic.  
Clint let out a soft groan as he sat upright, feeling the garbage bags and various other miscellaneous trash shift underneath him and he made a face as he felt something sticky on his hand. He didn't even want to know.

The man in black sat upright as well and as he did so, Clint noticed him wince and place a hand on his side. Did he hurt himself saving his ass? Way to go, Clint.

"Are you alright?"

Clint could see the man's lips moving, but it was too dark for him to make out what the sounds could possibly be. "What?"

"I said-"

Clint reached up to his ear and then let out an irritated sigh. "Hold on." He began to dig through the garbage in search of his quiver which held a couple of spare hearing aids in one of the pockets. "Aw, quiver. Where did-"

He suddenly felt a tap on the shoulder and when he glanced over, he saw the masked man holding his quiver. Oh.

"Thanks." As he reached for the quiver, he froze in sudden realization. Man wearing black and a mask. In Hell's Kitchen. Clint, you _dummy_.

He took his quiver, digging into the pocket to place his hearing aids in and looked back to the masked man. "You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."

The masked man glanced away, "I didn't ask to be called that."

"Yeah, well I didn't ask to be called Hawkeye - well, actually, yeah I did."

The masked man let out a soft chuckle which was immediately followed after with a soft groan of pain as he attempted to climb out of the dumpster. Clint instinctively reached out to help but was met with a hand being held up in objection and Clint drew his hands back, instead opting to climb out as well. His foot ended up getting caught on a bag and he nearly ended up falling over, the masked man throwing out his arm to catch him.

"Uh, thanks."

The man merely nodded before he turned to the exit of the alleyway, beginning to walk away and that's when Clint finally noticed a dripping sound that seemed to be coming from the masked man. Was he bleeding?

"Hey, wait, hold on." He walked to catch up with the man and stepped in front of him, holding his hands forward. "Are you hurt? You shouldn't be going anywhere if you-"

The dark clothed man cut him off, pushing his hands aside. "I'm fine."

"Do you always suck this badly at lying, or is it just when you meet new people?" Clint sighed. "Just, let me take a look, I can-"

Before he could finish, he heard various voices from above and he drew his eyes up. "This is bad. Hey, man, we gotta-" However, when he looked back to the man, he ended up staring at an empty spot. "...Go."

Aw, futz. That guy was going to get himself killed.

"Come on, Clint. You're not an Avenger for nothing." He spoke, sliding his quiver over his shoulders. "Time to save the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."


	2. Some casual conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some Clint and Matt hanging out, nothing special. Clint is kinda gay though.

Clint would end up encountering the mysterious Daredevil almost every other visit to Hell's Kitchen and it easily became one of the better parts of visiting the city. Actually, it was the only thing he enjoyed about the city. However the most notable encounter he'd had with Daredevil was after he got a costume change and he actually came to him for help. And of course by "came to him for help", he really meant "snuck into his house and nearly gave him and his dog a heart attack". Sometimes he wished people didn't know where he lived. Well, it was more like all the time.

Regardless, Clint ended up meeting Daredevil on some shady rooftop in Hell's Kitchen. Just an average Friday night.

"I see you're really embracing the whole Devil of Hell's Kitchen thing. Red suit, horns. Only thing you're missing is the speared tail." Clint spoke, hauling himself up to the rooftop, minding the food he was carrying as to not crush it. That would be very unfortunate for him and his grumbling stomach.

The man merely let out a small hum of amusement as Clint approached him and didn't even glance over as the Hawkeye sat beside him. "You're late."

A smirk tugged at Clint's lips as he began to unwrap the burger he had been holding. "No, you're early. And I got hungry." He only needed to side glance to see the slight smile on the other man's face. "You want some?"

Daredevil shook his head, holding up his hand in objection. "I'm alright, thanks."

A snort.

"What?"

Clint grinned widely, "Nothin'. Just find it amusing that the Daring Devil has _manners_."

The man finally glanced in his direction, an amused tone barely noticeable in his voice. "Daring Devil?"

Clint gave a shrug and took a bite into his burger. "Ifs yuw naume."

"....What?"

Clint covered his mouth in an attempt not to laugh and swallowed the bite, clearing his throat. "Sorry. It's your name. It just sounds funnier saying Daring Devil."

The man let out a small laugh, obviously entertained by Clint's strange humor. "That sounds like a carnival ride."

"Exactly." Clint grinned again. "You must be this tall to ride this ride. The ride being an intense ass kicking."

Another laugh. Clint was sort of starting to like the sound of it. Not that he'd say that out loud, but he certainly wouldn't deny it either if asked. There was just something about a mask wearing vigilante laughing that felt right to him. Takes the stress of most situations away.

On second thought, he  _was_ going to say it out loud.

"You got a weird laugh."

Clint,  _no_ , that is  _not_ how you compliment people.

Regardless, Daredevil ended up throwing his head back and laughing, and Clint immediately knew that he couldn't have said anything better.


End file.
